The Weechesters: Tales of Innocence
by thatcrazygingernerdgirl
Summary: Lighthearted drabbles about the Winchesters T because I'm a paranoid freak
1. The Bike of Pain

**AN:**

**Me: Whoo! My first fanfic! If you are reading this, thanks for taking the time to read my drabbles. Anyway... onto the story!**

**Bobby: Aren't you forgetting something, idjit?**

**Me: Wait, you're not even featured in this! Oh, yeah disclaimer... *places hand on bible* I, thatcrazygingernerdgirl, solemnly swear that SPN does not belong to me. If it did, Destiel would of been canon seasons ago.**

**Bobby: *sigh* Just get on with it!**

**Me: Whatever, Trevor...**

* * *

"Woohoo! Look at me Dean!"

"Yeah, I'm seein' ya! You go Sammy!" Dean whooped as his brother sped past him on the bike. Dean had taken Sam up to Drop-Down Hill to practice on his bike. Drop-Down Hill was famous to all the kids in their neighbourhood as it was one of the steepest hills in that part of Kansas and to ride down it showed you were tough and fearless. It was a popular feat to get you entered into certain gangs but Sam had pestered Dean about it for weeks and when an empty Sunday afternoon came, it was the perfect thing to do. A narrow sandy path ran down the left side and that was where everybody cycled down, narrowly avoiding crashing into the iron lamppost that was set right at the bottom. That was the path Sam had just zipped down. Realising that Sam was that awkward sort of person that _would _collide with the post, Dean raced down the steep track, just in time to hear an almighty crash. His gut dropped.

"Holy crap!" He helped his brother up. "Are you hurt? How many fingers am I holding up? Can you-"

"I grazed my knee, Dean. It's not like I fell onto a chainsaw!" Sam grunted as he stood his dented bike up against the post.

"Did you hit your head?"

"No!" He lifted back his khaki shorts to reveal a small, bloodied graze. "Look, I'm not exactly dying," Dean breathed out, relieved.

"C'mere, I'll clean you up," He pulled a red checked handkerchief from his jeans pocket and spat on it before gently wiping the minuscule amount of blood away and tying it round Sam's skinny knee. "There, okay? Now hop on the bike, I'll wheel you home."

"I can walk Dean," Sam clambered back onto the bike, muttering, and his brother started to gently wheel him back along the dusty lane.

"What will Dad say about the bike, will he be cross?"

"I dunno. I 'spect he'll just tell you to be more careful and that you're a little idiot." shrugged Dean. "You worry way too much for a ten-year- old, Sammy. You're gettin' worry lines already you know!"

"Yeah well, I just seem to," he nervously smoothed the non-existent frown line from his forehead. "I feel like sometimes I do the worrying for both of us," Sam grinned at his brother. Dean laughed.

"Yeah, you do. Life's too short to be anxious, Sam. You gotta live, not exist."

"I've heard that be-"

"Hey, look! It's the scabby Winchesters again!" It was Stanley and his cronies, Dick and Fishsticks, the local bullies. "Wonder what they've been doing? Probably shoplifting again, like their worthless father!" Dean's knuckles went white as he gripped the handlebars tighter.

"Come on, Sammy. Dad's gunna be home soon and I gotta make dinner," he continued to wheel his brother past them, grinding his teeth.

"Aww, has Daddy gone on travels again? Has he left widdle Sam and Dean alone?"

"He's probably run away with another woman, like he did after the fire. My Mom says that she saw them doing stuff in a phonebooth, she said they're a disgrace to North Kansas-"

"Shuddup," said Dean, still trying to walk past them.

"Oooh, getting angry are we Winchester?"

"I said shuddup!"

"Lookin' for a fight?" Dean gritted his teeth and stopped. He bent down to Sam.

"Sammy, go home and wait for me to come back, got it? I'll be back soon, just go. I gotta sort these a-holes out."

"But Dean, they're gunna hurt you!" Sam protested.

"I don't care. Nobody insults our dad. Now go," Sam began to reluctantly peddle away, but kept turning round, a deep frown on his face. Dean straightened up and took a few steps up towards Stanley.

"Come on then, Winchester. Let's dance." Stanley walked up to Dean so he was right in his face. He spat and a large globule of saliva landed on Dean's cheek. He glared back at Stanley. Suddenly, Dean lashed out at Stanley, punching him squarely on the jaw. Stanley reeled back, cursing and stamped on Dean's foot. Dick and Fishsticks appeared and attempted to punch him too. Dick hit him Dean in the stomach and winded him. Dean flailed his arms about and hit them both in the eyes and they both ducked down. By this time, Stanley had already stood up.

He gave Dean a final, hard shove and he landed into a group of trash cans. The three boys ran away, laughing. Dean's wrist had definitely crunched when he had fallen over. He clutched it and hauled himself out of the rubbish. His wrist _friggin'_ hurt but Dean proudly held his head up and limped down the lane. As he turned the corner he spotted a familiar brown head in the bushes.

"Sam? Sammy, is that you? You need to work on your hiding skills," he called. Two earnest, young eyes appeared.

"They hurt you, didn't they?" he asked solemnly. Sam climbed out of the shrub and wheeled the bike out. "Why did you stay?"

"Look, I told you to go back home. Dad's gunna be worrying-"

"He's not there. You knew he wasn't there, but you still told me to go. Why did you want me out the way?"

"Sammy, please. I ain't trying to pick a fight but he _insulted _our name. I ain't lettin' him do that, okay? You're too young to understand."

"Get on the bike."

"What? Why?"

"I'm gunna push you home. You wheeled me, I'll wheel you." He said this in such a final tone Dean had no choice but to get on the bike.

"Sammy, you might be the same height as me, but you ain't as strong. You're skin and bones." argued Dean as Sam laboriously started to

push the bike up the road.

"I. Can. Try," he grunted. "You. Need. To. Stop. Eating. Those. Pies."

"Come on Sam, seriously, let me do it. I probably just sprained my wrist, I'll manage. I'm fourteen, you're ten. It doesn't look good."

"Shut. Up. I. Don't. Care." Sam puffed. Dean chuckled.

"Mmkay Sammy, go ahead," he leant back on the saddle, grinning at every grunt and groan that was heard.


	2. The Thing in the Closet

**AN: **

**Me: Hello, it's me again (in case it wasn't obvious) I have locked Bobby in the cupboard and he is not coming out.**

**Bobby: mmdmffl mfldldf mdflfdmfld!**

**Me: LALALALA CAN'T HEAR YOU! Anyway, are you sitting comfortably? Then on with the tale...**

**Disclaimer: I still don't , and never will, unfortunately own Bobby, Sam or Dean or SPN. (SHOCK HORROR, I KNOW!)  
**

* * *

"Dean?"

Nothing.

"Dean!"

A groan.

"Dean, I'm scared."

"For God's sake! It's three o'clock in the morning, Sammy! Go. To. Sleep."

"But there's a weird noise coming from the closet, Dean and I don't like it!" Dean sighed and sat up sleepily, rubbing the haze away from his eyes. He switched the bedside light on, screwing up his eyes against the bright glare. Sam was sat up in his small bed opposite, his tattered grey blanket pulled up to his chin. His hazel eyes were wide open with fear. Dean grunted as he pulled himself off his bed and sat next to the fearful eight-year-old. He rested a hand on his brother's head.

"Look, Sammy, There's nothing there, I swear." Dean said. He knew that a great number of things could be in there but he didn't want to worry Sam. Sam was an utter _pain_ in the butt when he was anxious. "I'll go open it up if you want?" Dean knew this was a risk but the look on Sam's face was so sincere it upset him. He got up again and felt a small pressure on his shoulder. Sam, not yet a freakish giant, was hiding behind his big brother.

"I- I want to see it. I'll conquer my fear, like Dad says." He said, chewing his lip. Dean smiled.

"Mmkay, Sammy. On the count of three, alright? One, two," the two Winchesters advanced to the pine closet, faces set. Dean grasped the knob. "Three." He flung it open and was met with… a messy jumble of t-shirts and assorted crap. He grinned, relieved. "See dude, I told you there was nothing there!" Dean scooped his brother up playfully and set him back on his bed.

"Thanks, Dean," said Sam, wriggling back under the covers. "You're the best big brother ever."

"Yeah well, I try Sammy, I try." Dean ruffled Sam's hair fondly and kissed his forehead gently. "You gunna sleep now?" Sam nodded before settling back down. Dean went back to his own bed and switched the lamp off again.

"G'night Sammy," Dean called out.

"G'night Dean."

_I love you_ Dean mouthed silently. He cringed immediately. _No chick-flick moments, goddamnit!_


	3. Puppyfat

**AN:**

**Me: Welcome chapter 3 of Tales of Innocence. Guess who I got!**

**Sam: Please kill me now.**

**Me:Ok let's get on before my life ends prematurely...**

**Disclaimer: Seriously guys, are you trying to make me cry?**

* * *

"Oh God!"

"What? Sammy, are you okay?" Dean knocked on the door.

"Go away, leave me alone!" came the indignant reply.

"Are you sure? Did you hurt yourself?"

"I told you to go away Dean! Please, I'm having a midlife crisis."

"Samuel Winchester, you are twelve. I don't think you're havin' a midlife crisis."

"You don't know!"

"Look, unlock the door. I'm coming in."

"Nooo!"

"Sammy, I'm giving you five seconds. One, two-" the bathroom door clicked. "Thanks. Now are you gunna tell me what's wrong?" Sam was sat, huddled into a little ball on the floor. Despite being four years younger than his teenage brother, he was already a head taller.

"I'm so fat." Dean snorted.

"Excuse me? Sam, you're not fat."

"Yeah, I am. The scales don't lie. I'm 200 pounds."

"You know there's this thing called puppy fat. Plus, you're the average height of a seventeen year old. I wouldn't worry."

"I bet you weren't fat."

"I was. I was twice as big as you."

"Yeah, right."

"You need to get a grip, dude."

"But it's not fair! I've gone from scrawny little twig to giant friggin' puddin'!" He buried his face in his knees. Dean sighed and got up from the tiled floor. He gently patted Sam's shoulders.

"S'okay, Sammy. At least you don't fit into the butt-flap pyjamas anymore."

"Yeah, s'pose. I'm never eating fast food again, I swear to God now."

"Whatever, Sammy." There was an awkward silence,

"Okay I take that back." Dean sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I think a girl would of made less of a fuss." He muttered.


	4. Tacos

**AN:**

**Me: Hello again! Another little fic, not as good as the other ones but, I couldn't be bothered to type it out so this was done in about 20 mins. *awkward grin* By the way, in the last chapter I chose to write Sam and Dean's accents but I haven't in this one. Sorry, you'll have to use your imagination...**

**Dean: Urgh, I can still taste it, gross dude!**

**Me: Shut up!**

* * *

"Dude, what is that?"

"It's called stew, Sam. Now shuddup and sit down at the table." The grey liquid bubbled and something moved.

"Urgh, oh my God, it just moved! That is gross, man, seriously."

"It's boiling Sam. What are you, blind?"

"No, I swear, something just wriggled." Dean rolled his eyes and pushed his brother into a chair.

"You are such a fusspot," he slopped some gloop into a bowl and placed it roughly infront of Sam. "Now eat, do you want to starve?"

"Yes, if that's the alternative," Sam pushed the bowl away. "Ever heard of Taco Bell?"

"Ever heard of ass whooping?"

"Ha, ha, hilarious. But Dean, this is crap, I'm not eating this."

"Sammy, you're a hair's width away from having your little ass kicked. Eat the stew, unless you wanna die," he shovelled a spoonful of 'stew' into his mouth, shuddered, before swallowing, hard. "Mmm, good stuff!" he lied, giving a forced grin.

"Okay, that is so wrong, man." They took it in turns to give each other sarcastic looks until Dean finally shrugged.

"Wanna have an eat-off?"

"What?"

"An eat-off. We'll both each as much as we can and the loser gets to… clean the toilet."

"Oh, no-"

"Yep, three, two, one, go!"

_**Two hours later**_

"Urgh, God, what did you put in that?"

"Umm, ketchup, sardines-" Dean paused to hurl into a plastic bucket before continuing weakly. "and… I dunno, everything that was in the fridge." Sam grunted from the bathroom, his head low in the bowl.

"Do you have a brain, Dean?"


	5. Our Town

__**Me: Last chapter, guys!**

**Dean: Finally.**

**Me: Just shut up. This was inspired by a post on tumblr where Sam performs in Our Town and only Dean comes to watch.**

* * *

_Deep breath, _Sam muttered to himself. _You are not Sam Winchester anymore, you are George Gibbs. And you are going to impress Dad, and show him that acting isn't for cissies. _He paced back and forth, tugging at the red suspenders that were part of his costume. They were too tight and itchy and suddenly, he felt like crying. _I can't do this, I can't act… _

"Hey Sam!" He whirled around the see a familiar figure. "Break a leg tonight!"

"Beth?" The girl stepped forward, a wide beam on her face.

"You're going to be great tonight. Are you nervous?" Sam swallowed, hard.

"N-No…" He stammered. Beth stepped forward and squeezed his arm. Sam inhaled sharply and blushed.

"Aww, you'll be fine. I promise." She smiled. "Well, I better get into place. Bye!" Beth waved and Sam blushed fiercer. Then he was rushed onto the stage, and into his place. The curtains opened, the light bright on his face. He squinted at the audience, searching for two faces. As he bustled around the stage, Sam tried to continue searching. He was so caught up in this, he forgot his line. And then there was the silence. The awkward silence, where he just stood, frozen, his cheeks turning slowly scarlet.

"Sam!" Beth hissed through her teeth. "Sam, come on!" And then he spotted him. Dean, sat right at the back, his hands behind his head, scuffed trainers on the seat infront of him, grinning. Sam swallowed and managed a small smile. Dean grinned wider and Sam took a deep breath. He said his line. Sam wasn't himself anymore, he was George Gibbs, and Beth was his Emily Webb. The play went on perfectly after that. Time seemed to fly and Sam was shocked as he bowed, the curtains beginning to close. He straightened up, beaming and, from the back there was a sudden,

"WHOO! GO SAMMY!" Dean was on his feet, jumping and cheering. Sam bowed once more, this time for his older brother only. When he had finished, his dreaded suspenders off and all hugs and slaps on the back from the rest of the cast done, ran to his wating brother. Dean whirled him round. "Dude, you were awesome!" he cried.

"But, Dean, where's Dad?" Dean stopped and put his hands on Sam's shoulders.

"I'm sorry Sammy, something came up. But, I was there. And I was so proud!" he hugged his brother again.

"Yeah," mumbled Sam. Dean frowned.

"What?"

"Yeah. I was awesome, wasn't I?" Dean ruffled his long mop of brown hair, laughing.

"Yep. You were."


End file.
